


Black Thumb

by bibliomaniac



Series: Undertale.igf [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Multi, featuring lots of plant death, frisk being a shipper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5791342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliomaniac/pseuds/bibliomaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which you murder a lot of plants, completely on accident, and also somehow end up hooking up with the King of All Monsters.</p><p>It's all Frisk's fault, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Not-So-Mystery of the Dead Ficus

It’s astonishing, you think to yourself dully, how much you utterly suck. Like, in general, but especially at plants.

“You…you murdered my ficus,” says your roommate, bemused. “I leave you alone for two days and you murder my ficus.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not even real!”

“I know,” you say, and spiral even further into self-loathing. “I’m so, so sorry. It looked, um, thirsty.”

“So…you watered it. The fake plant.”

“Yeah…”

“With weed killer.”

“I thought it was fertilizer!”

“For the fake plant.”

“I figured it couldn’t hurt,” you say miserably. “I was wrong. So, so wrong.”

You both stare at the brutally slain ficus for a bit. Finally, your roommate runs her hand through her hair and sighs. “Well, okay. I can always get a new one. But seriously, you’re amazing. Please never use your powers for evil.”

So, that’s how you come to be at a florist’s. You’re on a mission to obtain a shrubbery and to hopefully get it home without killing it.

You enter the small shop and a bell tingles. You’re immediately hit by warmth and the smell of flowers. You close your eyes and breathe it in for a second.

“Howdy. May I help you?”

You open your eyes and look up, and then up some more. It is a very tall goat monster. You blink in surprise at him before shaking your head and collecting yourself. You don’t have much experience with monsters, but you’d like to think you do have a degree of tact.

“Ah, yes. I’m looking for a plant.”

He smiles, amused. “Most people who come in here are, yes.”

“Preferably one I can’t kill,” you specify. “An invincible plant.”

“Oh, I see. Black thumb?”

You stare at your thumb sadly. “More like the thumb of hyperdeath.”

He laughs. “That bad, hm?”

“I just killed a ficus.”

“Oh, well—“

“It was a fake ficus.”

“Oh.” He smiles sympathetically. “I can see how that might be a problem.”

“Yeah.” You sigh dejectedly. “It’s a replacement for the ficus, this plant, so I don’t want to mess it up. My roommate is already pissed at me.”

“Well. We have a couple of low-maintenance plants here that might suit you and your roommate well. I wouldn’t say they’re indestructible, but they are pretty hardy.”

He touches a hand lightly to your shoulder to turn you in the right direction. You walk over to a corner of the shop with him. “Here we have our selection of succulents. They’re low maintenance and can survive some pretty harsh conditions.”

You spot one with big puffy green leaves and point at it. “What’s that?”

“That’s called crassula ovata, or the jade plant. It’s known for being particularly difficult to kill.”

“Ooh.”

“Right, and they can be quite good for beginners. I think this would be a good choice.”

“Hm.” You finger one of the leaves experimentally when it breaks off and leaks a clear fluid. You blanch. “Oh my gosh! It’s bleeding!”

He laughs again, a big, rumbling sound. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll take more than that to kill this one.”

“I like it,” you decide.

“Good. I hoped you might.” When you look up at him, he’s smiling gently. 

You smile back. “Thanks. You’ve been really helpful, …..?”

He draws back a moment. “You don’t--you don’t know who I am?”

You tilt your head. “Afraid not. Have we met before?”

“No, no. Just--never mind. I’m Asgore.”

“Nice to meet you, Asgore. I’m ********.”

“********.” He grins. “What a lovely name. It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you get a container for the jade plant, then rings you up at the cash register. 

“Do you need help getting it out to the car?”

“No, I’ll be fine, I think.” You frown. “I hope.”

You walk to the car and clench your fist, determined to not kill anything this time. The shopkeeper sure was helpful even though you have the blackest black thumb you’ve ever heard of. At this point you’d resolved to just stay away from plants and admire them from afar, but you are a good fricking roommate who wants to make sure both of you are happy in your apartment. It’s too small a space to handle any disagreements, after all.

Asgore watches you leave with a bemused little smile. How exactly did one kill a fake plant? Oh well. Questions for another day, perhaps. It was also quite nice to just interact with humans who didn’t know he was a king, who didn’t know what he had done. He reveled in just being an equal to those he met. 

You get home and present the jade plant with a flourish. “Ta-da,” you say dryly, and your roommate claps. 

“Look, it’s alive!”

“Ha, ha. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She gives you a quick side hug. “I appreciate the gesture.” 

“No problem.”

She places it in the windowsill and looks at it proudly. “There. Much nicer than a fake ficus.”

“So am I forgiven?”

“I was never mad at you, you dope.”

“Oh.”

“But yes, you are.” She gently bumps against your hip with her own. “Now scoot. It’s my turn for dinner tonight.”

“Pie for dessert? Because you love me?”

She sighs. “Yeah, sure. Pie for dessert.”

“Because you love me.”

“Because I love you. Now, seriously, scoot.”

You wink at her and scamper back to your room. 

When you reach your computer, you immediately get on google to search for the plant you’d obtained today. Crassula ovata, a member of the succulent family. Requires little water and little care. Good for beginners. Perfect for you, really. Asgore had picked well. 

\-------

You don’t really have reason to think of Asgore for a while. In fact, you don’t think of him at all, until you nearly bump into him at the grocery store.

“Oh! Hi! Asgore, right?”

“Yes, right. You’re…******?”

“Yeah. Thanks for all your help the other day, by the way. The plant is alive...for now.”

“I’m glad.” There is an awkward pause.

“So, um…” You never had much practice talking to monsters. You really didn’t know what to say next. Not that you had much practice talking to humans, either, but beside the point. “I see you have...groceries.” 

Asgore quirks an eyebrow. “Yes. That is indeed what I come here for.”

You peer into his basket, and you giggle. “Trix? Really? Aren’t those for kids?”

“Ah, they’re for my...Frisk.”

“Your Frisk.”

“It’s complicated to explain. They’re my ex-wife’s adopted child, but they come over to visit every once in a while, and they like their sugary cereal.”

“Oh, I see. How old are they?”

“Twelve, but their birthday is coming up soon.” He smiles fondly. “They grow up so fast.”

“I imagine,” you say vaguely, having no experience in the matter.

Just then, a child comes barreling around the corner and straight into Asgore’s legs. He winces. “Oh, hello, Frisk.”

They sign, “Who is this?” Luckily, you know enough sign language to follow along.

“Oh, just a customer from my store.”

“Just?” They wiggle their eyebrows.

He looks embarrassed. “Yes, Frisk.”

“Do they do this to every eligible customer who comes along?” you ask curiously, and Asgore buries his head in his hands and nods.

“Are you saying you’re eligible?” Frisk shoots back. 

“Frisk, please,” Asgore mutters through his hands.

You laugh uncomfortably. “I don’t really think your dad thinks of me like that. I’m guessing that automatically renders me ineligible, so to speak.”

Frisk smiles mischievously and signs, “But you’re not saying no, either.”

You ignore that and continue, “Also, if I stuck around, I’d kill all of his beautiful plants, and we can’t have that, can we? He needs to make a living.”

Frisk snorts. “No he doesn’t! He’s--”

Suddenly, Asgore clasps Frisk’s hands and says sternly, “That’s quite enough.”

Frisk looks between you two and starts grinning. “You mean they don’t know you’re--”

“Hush.”

They mockingly zip their lips closed, and Asgore smiles tiredly at you. “Anyway, we’ve kept you long enough. Best of luck with your plant!”

“...Alright, bye.” Why the heck is this child trying to set you up with their sort-of-not dad? You shrug. Whatever.

And then you walk away from one another and back to your separate lives.


	2. Plant Funeral

You love this plant. It’s so cute-looking—all round and nice.

You love this plant, and it is dying.

“Seriously, what did you do to it?”

“I just watered it!” you wail.

“With weed killer?”

“No, with actual water! I checked at least three times! Straight from the faucet, I swear.”

“Hm.” Your roommate sighs. “Well, another one bites the dust. Into the trash can, I guess.”

“No! I won’t let it die.”

You both consider the plant, which is looking pretty dead. The leaves are wrinkled and droopy and it just looks kind of sad. “Are you sure it isn’t already?”

“No, but I have to give it all I’ve got,” you proclaim dramatically. “It deserves my best.”

“It’s a plant, ******.”

“It’s a cute plant and I love it!”

You carefully place the jade plant in a box and rush out to your car. Your roommate just sighs and waves goodbye. She’s used to your antics by now, really. You’ve always been kind of a space cadet. You’re a sweetheart, but you’re ridiculous most of the time. It’s part of your dubious charm.

With just as much urgency, you get out of your car and run into the shop. You present a very surprised Asgore with the plant and say tearfully, “It’s dying.”

He takes the plant and looks at it. “So it is. What happened?”

“I don’t know! I swear I only watered it!”

“Overwatered maybe,” he mutters to himself, assessing the plant, but blanches when your face falls even further.

You hug yourself. “I knew it. It’s my fault.”

“Oh…no, I didn’t say that.” He takes the plant out of its pot and shows you the roots. “Root rot. See? It’s not your fault.”

You look up at him, eyes watery, and ask, “Can we save it?”

He puts a comforting hand on your shoulder and says, “Dear, I don’t think so. It’s a bit far gone. But,” he adds cheerfully, “We can get you a new one. Perhaps a different kind? Andromischus cristata, or the Baby Toes plant, is another good option—“

“No. I don’t deserve—“ You sigh heavily and look down at the plant. “It’s really dead?”

He has no idea how to respond to this. You look so devastated, but—it’s a plant. He’s not sure whether to comfort you or to burst out into laughter. “Um, yes.”

“Can I bury it here?”

What.

“There’s only concrete outside my apartment, so I can’t—I can take it to a park, I guess, but—“

“No, you can, um…bury it here.”

“Thank you,” you sniffle, and throw your arms around him impulsively. “You’re a good person.”

Baffled, he pats you on the back. “Um. Thanks?”

“I’m just going to go call my roommate real fast. I’ll be right back.” With one last mournful look at the plant, you go outside.

He looks, bewildered, at the plant, then at the door through which you just left.

Seriously, what.

You come back in and trudge your way over to a corner, then plop down in it and bury your head in your knees.

“Are you…all right?” Asgore asks hesitantly.

“No.”

“It’s…” He finally vocalizes his thoughts. “It’s just a plant, you know.”

“It was a living thing. All living things are important.” Your voice is muffled by your knees, but it’s steady.

And doesn’t that just hit Asgore right where it hurts. Because here you are, crying over a dead plant, when he could never even bring himself to cry over six dead children. Not after ______, not after Asriel. He feels his sins crawling on his back.

“It’s not your fault,” he says again, and he’s not sure who he’s speaking to anymore.

“Still.” You take a deep, shuddering breath, and smile up at him. “Sorry. You probably think I’m weird, huh?”

“Oh, no--”

“It’s just...my mom was a florist. She sold the most beautiful golden flowers. Grew them all herself. I grew up surrounded by flowers, and I killed every single one I touched.” You look down at your feet, where a single petal has fallen to the ground. You pick it up and roll it between your fingertips. “Sometimes, I used to wonder if that’s why she died. If I hadn’t touched her…”

Oh, jeez. He hadn’t meant to unlock your level 5 tragic backstory. He feels bad now.

“I’m...sure that’s not it,” he says, casting about for something to say.

“Yeah, I know. I just wondered, is all. Anyway, every time another one died, I’d cry and cry and she’d just tell me, you messed up this time, but there’s always tomorrow. Always another flower. You’ll get it right next time. But I never do. I never get it right. Every time I think, this time it’ll turn out okay, and then another one dies.”

“I...know what you mean,” he says softly. “I’ve seen...many things die in the course of my work. And every time, it kills more of me. I envy you, really. I’m not sure the part of me that could cry over flowers still lives on.”

You look at him curiously, then echo his movement from before--a hand on the shoulder. You have to reach for it, he’s so tall. “I don’t think that’s true,” you say. “I think if you didn’t care anymore, you wouldn’t be here sitting with me.”

A smile plays at the corners of his lips. “Thank you, that’s nice of you to say.” He lets the ‘but’ go unspoken.

Your roommate pushes open the door tiredly and sighs, “Okay, where’s the plant--” She stops and looks around. “Oh, hey, it’s actually cool in here.”

“Well, thank you.”

She whirls around to the sound of his voice and finds him, crouched in a corner, looming over ********. She grins. “Do I need to leave you two alone?”

Asgore immediately stands up to protest, but ****** just says, frowning, “That’s not funny. Someone died here.”

“It’s a plant, ******,” she huffs, and extends her hand to Asgore. “Hey there. I’m Marissa. Sorry you have to deal with my roommate’s crap today.”

“No, it’s all right,” Asgore hastens to reassure her. “They’ve been no trouble at all.”

“So, are we going to bury this plant, or what?”

“Seymour.”

“You named it.”

“Yes, I named it, and his name is Seymour,” you sniff.

Marissa rolls her eyes. “All right, then.”

You find a nice patch of ground outside the shop. Asgore provides a shovel, and you do the digging. You don’t really bury it that deep, but you do make a small star of David out of twigs and stick it in the newly upturned earth.

“So, Seymour was Jewish?”

“Shut up. Yes.”

Asgore lets out a chuckle, and you glare at him. “Sorry.”

As you stare at the new grave, it occurs to Asgore that you may be the most precious creature he’s ever met, human or monster. Your SOUL is pure and strong. He smiles at you, and you wrinkle your eyebrows together in confusion before shrugging and smiling back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reader-chan the third is ridiculous but i dont care its fun to write so im gonna DO IT


	3. Suddenly Seymour, or That Dream Sequence From Labyrinth

“So, you and the goat.”

“Huh? Asgore? What about him?”

“He’s hot, right?”

You smack her. “It’s rude to talk about other people like that!”

“It’s not rude if it’s true.”

“That’s not actually a thing,” you say primly. “But…”

“But?”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Sure, I guess he’s attractive.”

Marissa grins. “Knew it.”

“You know nothing, hush.”

\---------

You return to Asgore’s little shop a few weeks after Seymour’s funeral. The bell tingles cheerfully, and you hear a voice come from the back of the shop. “Pardon me, please wait a moment!”

You do as you are asked, fiddling with the edges of your sleeves. Eventually, though, Asgore comes out. He’s got dirt streaked all over his face and tshirt, which is at least two sizes too small. Not that you care. Fricking Marissa.

“Oh, ******! What brings you here on this fine day?”

“I just wanted to thank you. For the other day, I mean. I know I was kind of a mess. And…” Your fiddling intensifies. “I also wanted to get a flower. For Seymour.”

“You’re more than welcome,” he says gently, then frowns. “As for the flower, though…isn’t that a little dark? Sacrificing one of Seymour’s brethren to accompany him to the grave?”

Your face turns horrified. “Oh, no! I hadn’t even thought of that! I’m a terrible person,” you moan.

“I…was joking, but…”

“But you’re right. It is dark.” You sigh. “I just wanted to do something nice for him.”

Asgore smiles helplessly. “I’m guessing it would be pointless to remind you that this is still just a plant.”

“You guessed correctly, sir. Everyone deserves remembering.”

With that, he feels another pang. Does anybody remember those children, he wonders? Anyone apart from him. What a hollow remembrance, to be trapped in the regretful memories of your murderer. That’s what he is, in the end—nothing more than a murderer. He surrounds himself with life and tries to forget, but it can’t make up for what he’s done.

He startles at a light touch on his shoulder. “Hey, are you okay? You look sad.”

“I’m just doing a little remembering of my own, that’s all,” he says heavily.

You smile at him. “See, that part of you isn’t gone after all. I know it.”

He feels like he could be blinded by your innocence—or maybe purified by it, even, in a different world. He decides that he can’t lie to you anymore, even if it’s a lie by omission. He has to let you know what he’s done, let you know that there’s so much more at stake than flowers—

And then, your gaze fixates on something past his shoulder and you gasp. “Oh my gosh!” You rush outside, him following you bemusedly. “Asgore, look!” You point at something small in the ground.

It’s a small jade plantlet, sprouting out from where you had buried Seymour.

“Well, how about that.”

You beam happily. “I guess even I couldn’t kill him after all!” Then your gaze turns determined. “Asgore, we can’t let him die this time.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” he reassures you, and wonders what he’s doing, exactly. Not only is he perpetuating this farce of a relationship, he’s offering to babysit a plant.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’ll come and visit him too.”

And so you do. You come at least once a week, usually more often. While you’re there, you talk about plants with Asgore. You find out that his favorite flower is the golden flower—just like your mom used to grow—and that he makes his own tea from them, which he offers you with a hint of pride. The pride is well founded; you’ve never tasted tea this good before. 

“Why don’t you sell this? You could make a fortune,” you say reverently.

He laughs softly. “I don’t really need a fortune. Anyway, it just feels kind of…personal, I suppose. I don’t share my golden flower tea with just anyone.”

You duck your head and smile down at your hands at that.

Seymour grows bigger and stronger under the careful watch of Asgore and yourself, and you are overjoyed. You brag about him and his still-currently-alive state to Marissa, who is far more interested in your relationship with Asgore.

Which, for the record, is also growing. You find yourself increasingly attracted to the sweet, gentle shopkeeper. He, in turn, is increasingly charmed by you.

“Why don’t you just tell him already?” asks your roommate. “It’s so glaringly obvious that he’s into you.”

“It is not! And anyway, I couldn’t. He’s just a friend.”

That is, of course, complete bull, and Frisk knows it. They know that you and their sort-of-dad were meant to be. Heck, they had known it since the grocery store. They are just that good at matchmaking.

“So, my birthday is coming up,” they sign to Asgore.

“Indeed. Have you thought of anything you want yet?”

They had, but they weren’t going to reveal their plan to Asgore just yet. “I want a big party for all of my friends.”

“Oh…well, I think Toriel was planning something, um, smaller…”

“Please?” Then they give him the puppy eyes that Frisk knows he’s helpless before, and add sweetly, “Dad?”

He melts. “Aw, you know I can’t say no to you, sweetheart. Of course.”

Frisk smirks privately. Their plan will work perfectly.

The party comes together quickly. Frisk invites everyone—and when they say everyone, they mean everyone. There are monsters of all shapes and sizes crowded into the community hall, which is decked out in grand fashion. 

They have also, of course, invited ****** (and Marissa), unbeknownst to Asgore. They assigned a surprisingly willing Toriel to get them prepared for the evening, despite ******’s protests. And in the end, if Frisk does say so themselves, they look pretty darn good.

Frisk has seen this dozens of times in movies. The man is in the crowd, lonely and yearning, and then the person they like steps into the ballroom, and they are captivated by each other, and they dance, and then they live happily ever after. A flawless plan, really.

You enter the room, and Frisk gives the cue to Napstablook to change the music to something soft and slow. You look around, looking lost, when you see Asgore. Your entire face lights up, and you rush to him.

“Asgore!”

“*******? Wait, what are you—“ He takes you in and gapes. “You look lovely.”

You blush demurely. “Thank you. You look very…fancy.”

Asgore winces slightly, realizing he’s in his dress robes.

“No,” you assure him, touching a hand to his shoulder, “I like it. It’s nice.”

You beam up at him, and his breath hitches. Softly, wonderingly, he asks, “Would you do me the honor of giving me this dance?”

And you say yes, and you dance like a dream. He’s substantially taller than you, of course, so he has to lean down a little far and you have to stand on your tiptoes, but you meet halfway and it manages to be perfect. You sway back and forth, and he stares into your eyes, and you stare back, and—

“*******, GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "this is not how the movies usually go," says frisk petulantly, "not the good ones anyway"
> 
> pls note the chapter count btw! this will not be long, jsyk. sorry;;


	4. Murder/Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: non-graphic talk about murder
> 
> this is rly angsty sry (not sry)

You separate and look around for the source of the voice, confused and slightly irritated. It’s Marissa.

“Marissa? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is he’s a murderer! ******, Asgore is the King of All Monsters. I’ve read about him. He killed six kids in cold blood, he’s--well--a monster!”

Your eyes turn to him, horrified. “Asgore, you’re the King?”

“******--I can explain, I wanted to tell you, I swear--”

“Come on, ******. Let’s go.”

You let yourself be led away by Marissa, but you keep looking at him the whole time, still with that disbelieving expression on your face.

He’s left with his arm outstretched towards you and a shattered heart.

\---------

He can’t really remember too clearly what happens after that. He thinks that Frisk leaps off the stage to rush to him, and he thinks that Toriel might catch him when his knees give out, but he’s not honestly sure one way or the other.

He should have told you. This is all his fault. You deserved to know what you were getting into, you deserved to be warned away. But he was intoxicated by your innocence, your easy smiles and light touches, and he let himself drown in it.

His movements when he opens up the shop the next day are mechanical, rote. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to be anywhere.

He wants to be with you.

And then he sees Seymour, and it nearly breaks him again. He feels like crying and--and isn’t that something, because it looks like the part of him that can cry over flowers really isn’t dead after all.

With that, he realizes what he needs to do. He’s never really given himself--or anyone, really--a chance to mourn the children that were lost Underground. They deserve it. Maybe he deserves it too.

He’s not really familiar with human funerals, but he knows what you did for Seymour. He carefully selects six flowers. Green, yellow, orange, purple, blue, teal. Then he digs a small hole outside next to Seymour and places them gently inside. 

He pauses, then goes back inside and cuts two more flowers. One red, one gold. _______ and Asriel deserve remembrance, too.

He solemnly packs the dirt back on top of the makeshift grave and stares at it for a while. 

When the first child since _______ fell down, he had been so angry, still so hurt from the loss of his children. He hesitated for only a moment before engaging them in battle, knowing all the while that they wouldn’t stand a chance.

And then Toriel left him, and he didn’t know what to do with himself except to grow angrier and more bitter. First, they take his freedom, then his children, then they take his wife. Is there anything, he had wondered, that the humans haven’t taken from him? Is there anything left for him at all?

With each successive human that fell, he became more and more detached, more and more distant from everything. He went through the motions--greeting his subjects, holding public functions, trying to give hope to a people that had none. None except for him, and these SOULs.

At least that’s what he told himself. He still doesn’t know whether he believed it was true or not, in the end.

He had his flowers, and his tea, and while he certainly wasn’t happy, he was...stable. Steady. The kind of King his subjects could look up to. It was enough.

Until Frisk comes along, and nothing is certain anymore. When he sees them, he sees _____ and Asriel and all of his mistakes. He starts to wonder, with each time he kills them, whether he might have been wrong all of these years. 

And then, miraculously, somehow, Frisk removes the barrier, and suddenly they are all free, and he doesn’t know what comes next. The monsters don’t need a King anymore. They don’t need him.

So instead he becomes Asgore, the shopkeeper. He hides away from a world that hates him for what he’s done. 

Except for you. You were a small, shining moment in a dark eternity. You treated him not like a King, not like a murderer, but like an equal. Someone normal, someone untainted. 

And he couldn’t help but take advantage of that kindness, and in doing so, he had taken advantage of you. It was selfish, but he just wanted to be near you.

And now you’re gone.

“Howdy!”

He whips around to see you. His jaw drops, and he whispers, “*******?”.

“Crap, uh, I’m not used to this. Greetings, Your Majesty.”

“You’re--but--”

You plop down next to him and sigh. “I was really mad at you. I still am.”

“I…” He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how.

“I mean, how could you not tell me something so important?”

“I...didn’t want you to hate me,” he admits shamefully. “I was a coward. And…” He takes a deep breath. “I’m so--”

You tilt your head. “Why would I hate you just because you’re royalty? I mean, there have been some pretty sucky kings in the past, I’ll admit. But being a king does not by necessity mean you’re a douche. Wait, crap. A jerk, I mean, sorry--”

“Wait, royalty? That’s what you're fixating on?”

“It’s just, I’ve been mistreating you this whole time! There’s all of this etiquette I have to learn now! Like, forks, and, um...bowing and stuff. Wait, I didn’t bow to you yet, I’m messing this all up--”

“*******, I’m a murderer!” he booms, then immediately regrets it.

You just squint at him and say matter-of-factly, “So am I.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ve murdered hundreds of plants! And now that I think of it, probably hundreds of insects, as well. Lots of things, really.”

He gapes at you. “I murdered six human children.”

“I know.”

He throws his arms up in the air. “I don’t understand!”

“That’s what you were talking about when you said you had to see lots of things die when you were working, right? I thought you were talking about plants, but you were talking about those kids.”

“...Yes.”

“I read about it in the news after I went home. You did it to save everyone. All of your people. Right?”

“...Yes, but…”

You look at him seriously. “What you did was wrong.”

He sighs deeply and looks down, ashamed. “I know.”

“But, you did have a reason. And you feel bad about it. And you’re trying to move forward. That’s what I care about.” You take one of his big hands and smile at him gently. 

He basks in your smile and the touch of your hand and thinks, maybe what he has been waiting for is your redemption all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *unabashedly jam packs all of this into one chapter, throws it down, leaves, muttering to self*


	5. Forgiveness (Can You Imagine)

You two just sit like that for a while, you idly stroking the fur on the back of his hand and him nearly purring with how happy he feels. Even in his wildest dreams, he had never imagined you staying after you found out what he was.

A thought stops him short. Maybe…maybe now he actually has a chance. He could never bring himself to say anything when you didn’t know, too wracked by guilt and shame, but…surely if you could forgive him for his ultimate sin, you wouldn’t begrudge him his fondness for you?

He looks over at you, peaceful and smiling, and makes a decision. “Um, ******.”

“Yes?”

“Would you…would you be willing to accompany me to dinner?”

Your heart freezes, as does your smile. Is he asking you out on a date? Is Asgore, King of All Monsters and your crush, asking you out on a date?

Nah, you decide. No way.

“Yeah, of course! Where do you want to go?”

His heart skips a beat, and he can’t keep the massive smile from his face. You had accepted! “Oh, I...I know a place that might be good, I…” He clears his throat. “I’ll set everything up and then get the details to you later. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

He can’t stop grinning. “Thank you!”

It’s just dinner, you think bemusedly, but nod and pat his hand once before brushing yourself off and rising. “Well, I’ll see you then? I have to get back. My knees are killing me.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he babbles. “I’ll see you then.”

You wave, get into your car, and drive away. He feels giddy and light, like he hasn’t for years. 

\--------

He calls later that evening with a time, date, and location for your dinner. Even if it’s not a date, you can’t help but get excited at the thought of spending more time with him.

“What are you smiling about?”

You gulp and turn around. It is, of course, Marissa. “Ummmmm…”

“You were in such a bad mood earlier today, and now…”

“Um, I…” You can’t lie to her, or anyone. It’s one of the traits about yourself that kinda annoys you. You sigh. “I’m going to dinner with Asgore.”

Her eyes narrow. “What did you just say? Because it sounds like you said you were going to dinner with a murderer.”

“He’s a good person, Marissa! Sure, he’s made some mistakes, but--”

“Killing six kids isn’t just a _mistake_ , *******!”

“He--you know what, I don’t have to justify myself to you. I like him, Marissa! And you did too, before you found out. Can you please just let me have this?”

Marissa looks like she’s going to yell some more, but with a great effort, she takes a deep breath. Then, she asks, “You still like him even after all he’s done?”

“Yes, I do. Marissa, everyone deserves a second chance. I want to be that for him.”

She’s quiet for a moment, processing. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“I know.” Hesitantly, you hug her until she wraps her arms around you. “But he makes me happy.”

She exhales slowly, then nods. “All right. I’m going to trust you on this one, okay?”

“Thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m awesome. Now then. What are you going to wear on your date?”

“It’s not a date.”

“Like heck it isn’t.”

“It’s not!”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, whatever you say. You’ll still need to wear clothes, right? By the time I’m done with you, it’ll definitely be a date.” 

\--------

Asgore stands stock still as Toriel finishes the remaining touches on his hemline.

“There. It is a quick fix, but it will do.”

“Thank you.” Impulsively, he wraps his arms round her. “I really appreciate you helping me with this, despite...everything.”

“I do want you to be happy, Asgore. I always have.”

“I feel the same way. I’m glad you have Frisk, and your teaching, and….for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“I know.” She pats him lightly on the shoulder. “Now then. Go knock them dead. Please not literally.”

He laughs heartily. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you, again.”

“Yes, yes. Off you get.”

He has never been one for driving--cars have always seemed rather small and confining to him, given his height--so he opts to walk the short distance to your apartment. 

He rings the doorbell and waits anxiously for you to open the door. When you do, he is stunned.

“You...look amazing, *******.”

You lower your head demurely. “Thanks. You look pretty great yourself!”

“Ah...thank you, but I can’t hold a candle to your beauty.” He remembers, and extends his hand to you, holding a bouquet of flowers. “For you.”

You take them and look at them helplessly. Then you say, “You know these will all end up dead, right?”

He chuckles. “I know that, yes. It’s just a gesture.”

Behind you, he sees Marissa, with her arms folded. She’s glaring daggers at him, and as he makes eye contact, she points to you, then to him, and draws a finger over her throat. It’s a rather condensed version of the shovel talk, but he gets the idea and nods sheepishly.

He gives you his arm. “Shall we, then?”

You stare at his arm, then at Marissa, who mouths something he can’t quite make out. You shake your head furiously, then take his arm. “Sure.”

You talk quietly all the way to the restaurant. He responds where it is expected, but mostly he just stares at you and wonders how he got so lucky.

You get to the restaurant--a monster-run fine dining establishment and a favorite of Mettaton’s, who gave him the recommendation--and sit down. He can’t stop looking at you.

You notice and giggle. “What? Is everything all right?”

“Everything is perfect, my dear,” he says, and wonders if you can tell how smitten he is by his voice alone. Part of him hopes you can.

The rest of the dinner goes just as well. Conversation flows easily between you and him, the food is delicious, and he is sad when it is over.

His heart nearly bursts when you nuzzle up against him--ostensibly to ward off the cold--as you two walk back to your apartment. He stands outside your door again and feels very warm. “I had a lovely evening, *******.”

“Me too.” You smile up at him, and he is gone. He leans down to kiss you, and he checks in your eyes to make sure you’re all right with it, and--

And he finds you, jaw dropped, staring at him.

He flusters, “Oh, I--I thought--I’m sorry--”

“Wait, what?”

“You just looked so--I. I’m sorry. I’ll just--”

“Were you just trying to kiss me?”

He has never felt so embarrassed. “Um. Yes.”

You pat your fist in your open hand. “Ohhhhh. So this was a date!”

“It was...intended to be, yes.” Had they not known? His heart drops. So this entire magical evening, it was all--He buries his face in his hands.

“Well, if that’s the case, get back down here then!” He peeks through his hands to see you beaming at him.

“W-what?”

You take one of his hands straight from his face and place it on your own cheek. “I didn’t think this was a date, but I was hoping it was, silly. If you want to kiss me you can.”

“I…” He hasn’t felt such butterflies for a long time. “I do want to, very much.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

And this time there is nothing to stop him as he dips down and presses his lips to your own. It’s short, and sweet, and perfect just like the night before it, and like you.

When he pulls back, your eyes are closed. You look ethereal in the nighttime, lit up by the glow of the nearby street lights.

He wonders that he is allowed to have this, to have you, when he feels a sudden calm come over him. It feels like forgiveness.

From wherever they are now, the SOULs of the fallen children give their blessing for him to move on and be happy.

And so he does, with you by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue:
> 
> From their bedroom, Frisk grins. “I told him so.”
> 
> “Yes, you did, dear. Now go to sleep, it’s getting late.”
> 
> “But I’m allowed to bug him about this tomorrow, right?”
> 
> “Oh, absolutely.” 
> 
> \-----
> 
> my first ever finished multichapter fic haha! thanks for being on this ride with me, i hope you enjoyed yourself as much as i did! i love you all xoxo
> 
> and thanks again to pixelized for collaborating with me on this! theyre amazing and you should give them a round of applause!

**Author's Note:**

> why do i do these things to myself
> 
> written in collaboration with my dear palfriendo pixelized!


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